[OPEN] (703): so, i guess i gotta chill on showing up to work hungover

[fuckingcool]

Who| Oliver + any D9 tributes!
What| As his tributes come out of the Arena, Oliver will be meeting with each of them for a personal style assessment.
Where| His workshop in the D9 suites.
When| Anytime during Arena 13--whenever your character dies and returns to the Capitol.
Warnings/Notes| Oceana will be out of drag as Oliver for this log! The style assessment is mandatory ICly, but not OOCly, so feel free to tag in if you'd like to c:



The longer Arena this time around is a mercy for District 9's stylist; it means there's more time where he doesn't need to be frantically sewing, after all, and it means that as his tributes trickle back into the Capitol, he can take some time to see them one on one and discuss their images, style-wise. He doesn't want to get stuck in a rut, after all, and it'll be good to take a fresh look at each of his babies and make sure they're all getting the attention they're due.

So, when each D9 tribute arrives back from the Arena, they'll find a note and a little bag of chocolates waiting in their rooms, inviting them to come meet with Oliver at their earliest convenience. For many of them, it'll be the first time they've experienced their stylist out of drag, and it might be a tad confusing finding a tall, skinny twink in the workroom instead of an even taller, sequin-covered drag queen. Surprise, bitch.

Comments

[reassures]

Generally speaking, Nill has probably been a decent enough tribute for Oceana to work with. She liked Oceana plenty, and so long as she left Nill to do her own hair Nill was willing to let Oceana do what she wanted, though she never looked terribly comfortable with it.

She hadn't really realized that Oceana's manner of dress was something outside of a norm. She had chalked it up to the outlandish fashions of the Capitol. Now, as she steps in Oliver's workroom, she hardly recognizes him. Her wings flutter against her back, clearly confused, but she lifts a hand to wave nonetheless.

[fuckingcool]

Nill's silence has taken some getting used to, but really it works out for Oliver, because he's very chatty and with Nill, he doesn't have to worry about being interrupted. "Hi, honey," he calls. "Oh, don't worry, it's just me," he adds at the note of confusion in her expression. "Couldn't be bothered with being Oceana today, so I'm just Oliver. Still just as fabulous, obviously," he adds, brushing off the shoulder of his rose gold-glittered suit jacket. "Now! Come right over here, baby, stand on the pedestal just like this. I want to show you what I've come up with for your upcoming appearances." He ushers Nill over to the pedestal in front of the three way mirror, even giving her a little twirl by the hand on the way. He loves having cute Tributes. It makes them so much easier to work with.

[reassures]

Oliver. Was there a reason he used different names? Nill doesn't quite understand, but then again, drag queens are not a topic that anyone has really discussed with her a great deal. Her smile is small and hesitant as she walks over to Oliver and the pedestal, but genuine nonetheless. There's a little wing flutter at the twirl but otherwise she has no complaints.

The ever-present notepad is in hand though, and Nill takes a moment to write out a message before handing it and the pencil to Oliver. (It ends to get in the way a little if she holds onto it while he does his thing.)

you still look very pretty.

Then she steps onto the pedestal, tugging the ribbon out of her hair so she can use it to tie her hair up in a loose bun, entirely for the purpose of keeping it out of the way.

[fuckingcool]

Oliver blinks, taking the notepad and studying it for a second, before a surprisingly genuine smile spreads across his face. God, what a precious little thing. It's Tributes like Nill that make him wonder why they had to do all this shit, why they had to make these poor kids suffer. It's one thing to send the adults in over and over, but sweet little babies like Nill? It just feels wrong. Of course, she's likely far more capable than he realizes, but still.

"That's so sweet of you," he says softly, setting the notepad aside. "You're a doll." In more ways than one, he thinks as he crosses to his garment rack, pulling off a short grey dress with elaborate beading. Oliver holds it up to Nill in the mirror, and she'll notice that there's ample room in the back for her wings. "What do you think?"

[reassures]

Nill's capable, but it doesn't really make the Arenas all that much easier for her. To date Nill has never hurt a single tribute in any Arena, and she has died horribly in all of them. The last one did result in some impressive stabbing on a smilodon before she kicked it, but it would be understandable if that wasn't taken as her true nature. It was right after the smilodon killed a friend, after all.

The space where her wings would be is the first thing she takes note of. The small smile remains on her face as she lifts a hand to very carefully touch the skirt, running her fingertips over a few of the beads. She's never quite sure how much she should touch the clothing that her stylist has worked on for her. She knows they're for her, of course, but she always worries a little that she'll pull a string somewhere and all the beads will fall off. And Oceana's work is always lovely. For lack of something as convenient, she lifts a hand so that Oliver can see and gives him a thumbs up.

[fuckingcool]

Oliver's patient, letting Nill touch the dress all she likes. It may look delicate, but he's got that shit on there tight. Those beads aren't going anywhere. Grinning at her thumbs-up, he reaches down to the hem, right on the side seam, and presses a tiny, hidden button sewn into the lining. Once pressed, it activates a phosphorescent glow throughout the entire garment, one that will ebb and flow with Nill's heartbeat once she's got it on.

"The piece de resistance," he explains. "You're going to look positively ethereal." Swinging it back and forth a little, he holds it out to her, nodding at the curtained-off dressing area. "Care to try it on, doll?"

[reassures]

Nill honestly hasn't really worn anything that's literally flashing since she arrived in Panem. She's seen it on plenty of other tributes or Capitolites, of course, but she never really thought she would end up wearing something similar. Not that she minds, because it is very pretty.

Her smile is small and hesitant, and maybe even a little bit on the shy side, but Nill nods, reaching to take the dress from Oliver, though she doesn't go for the curtained off area right away. The room gets a quick look over before Nill spots a thin ribbon several shades darker than the dress. She grabs it and her notepad along the way and goes to get changed.

[fuckingcool]

Oliver gets the familiar thrill of watching someone like what he's made for them, and it's one of those moments where everything is worth it. All his hard work made this sweet little thing smile ever so shyly, and it makes his bleeding heart melt.

He watches her scavenge his workroom without much care; one of the bratty ones, he might have snapped at without much venom to keep their grubby fingers off his shit, but she's such a darling he can't even do so jokingly. If she wants a pretty ribbon, it's all hers. While she changes, he sinks into a ridiculously plush armchair done up in pristine white velvet, legs crossed, waiting for her appearance while he inspects his nails.

[reassures]

Thankfully Nill is not the intrusive sort - going through Oliver's things, when he so clearly loves his job, isn't something that she would ever do. That said, something within easy reach seems safe enough, and in this case it'll be useful.

It doesn't take too long for Nill to get changed. For as lovely as the dress is, actually putting it on is a relatively simple task, and when Nill wanders out from the curtained off area she's barefoot. Her shoes didn't exactly match. But she's in the process of using the ribbon to tie off a very quick side braid, her other one tied around a wrist (it didn't match either). If fits well since Oliver knows her measurements, but he's the final judge.

[fuckingcool]

Oliver looks up from his fingernails as the curtain rustles open; immediately, the Stylist's face lights up. He rises, covering his mouth with his hands. "Oh, my god. I've done it again. You look stunning," he croons, walking over to take her hand once it's free of its occupation, and leading her toward the pedestal once more. Gently, he turns her shoulders to look in the big three-way mirror, and he studies her reflection, too.

"Look at you. Oh, god, this is perfect. You're going to be the belle of the ball." He might be tearing up. Just a little bit. Leave him alone, he's a big softie under all that makeup and leather.

[reassures]

If nothing else, even if Nill isn't the biggest fan of being touched or having other people do things like this for her, trying on Oliver's design usually does leave her feeling rather pretty, in a way that she typically doesn't. Most are also very flattering designs, even if some might show off more skin than she likes. A small smile flits into place again as Nill steps onto the pedestal, and she twists her torso around slightly so she can see how the dress looks from different angles. It really is very lovely.

Her notepad is mostly within reach, and after letting Oliver inspect as much as she likes Nill reaches to pick it up. Thankfully this is a phrase she's used so often that she doesn't actually need to write it, and instead just flips to a page where it's already written.

thank you.